| ~*~ Rose-Colored Glosses ~*~ hovering between the quest for absolute truth and the pursuit of utter nonsense |
gloss, n.
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| "Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water! And East is East and West is West and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste more like prunes than a rhubarb does. Now, uh... Now you tell me what you know." -Groucho Marx |
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~ Thursday, January 13, 2005 ~
Primal Scream
At Stanford we used to blow off steam during Dead Week by opening our windows every night at exactly midnight and screaming. The effect was amazing. You'd hear a slow crescendo of wailing, first hovering above one dorm, and then spreading gradually like the 10th plague in the movie The Ten Commandments until this banshee-like sound of pure suffering was completely surrounding you. The year I lived in Loro, when the poor SLE students were in the middle of their 72-hour gigantic take-home final, I had the unique experience of hearing what was probably the longest primal scream ever. It must have gone on for at least three minutes, which is an insanely long time for a scream. I personally didn't usually participate in the scream, but it was still cathartic to hear that everyone else was going as crazy as I was.
I could really use some of that right now.
~ prattled by Miriam at 12:00 a.m. [+]
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